The very wealthy don’t mourn when they lose a longtime spouse, too much to do; obituary, funeral, memorial luncheon, the reading of the will and acting as the referee for the hired help before the fisticuffs break out when they fight over the deceased spouse’s belongings readied for the charity bin and trash. Gardenia Long would never be able to forgive her husband Leonard, he dropped dead at the height of the social season; choked on dry snacks served at the cocktail party before the Men’s Opera Guild dinner. She told him not to eat that crap as they were serving filet mignon for the entree, but did he listen!
Gardenia was desperate, her social calendar was full and she needed to snare a dinner partner for the remainder of the season. It was unheard of for a woman of her means and social standing to attend an event alone and screw up the host’s seating arrangement of boy, girl, boy, girl. The favorite nephew in her will she called was busy; off skiing he claimed. Probably in some rehab she thought. She contacted every hairdresser that ever ran a comb through her tresses and they too, were unavailable. As distasteful and humiliating as it was Gardenia called an escort agency.
Most hired escorts are members of the “artistic community”; educated, articulate, impeccably groomed and blessed with an engaging sense of humor. Rumor has it that humor aides one’s digestion after dining with an aging dowager that’s just gnawed the bones from her rack of lamb. Sadly, Gardenia had to settle for the dregs since the season was well under way.
Her hired arm candy was missing studs from his tuxedo shirt and the cuffs and collar of the shirt were both soiled and frayed. His fingernails were dirty and you’d win the bet if you guessed he hadn’t been to the dentist since grade school. His patent leather shoes were cracked and needed to be resoled. During dinner he chain smoked and ordered beer after imported beer, which he drank directly from the bottle. When he whipped out his comb during the sorbet intermezzo and gave his head a thorough raking Gardenia thought she would faint dead away.
Dinner over, Gardenia went to powder her nose and ran into Millicent Hillsworth.
“Darling, whatever are you going to do? The Holiday Ball is just weeks away.”
Gardenia held her head high, “I’ll stay home and order in Chinese.”
“Darling, whatever are you going to do? The Holiday Ball is just weeks away.”
Gardenia held her head high, “I’ll stay home and order in Chinese.”
Coreen Falco
© 2016 Coreen Falco
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